Through the Cracks
by Aspergirl
Summary: A ban on thong underwear is intended to put a stop to sexual behavior at South Park Elementary. Cartman has other plans, and Butters may or may not be a victim of sexual abuse. Rating for all the reasons you would imagine.
1. Chapter 1

This Thursday afternoon was like many other Thursday afternoons in South Park. There was fresh snow, school was ending for the day, and Eric Cartman was in detention. He would be cooped up in the library for an hour, but it was all so worthwhile. He couldn't help but smile even as Mr. Mackey instructed the delinquents, "Use your time to study and reflect on your behavior, m'kay." Cartman had spent enough afternoons in detention that he could have recited Mr. Mackey's detention spiel by heart. With a glazed-over look on his face, Cartman mouthed the words, cocking his head slightly for the "m'kay". Several other students giggled at the perfect imitation.

The heaviest volume of the Encyclopedia Banalica dropped on the table, startling Cartman out of his chair. "Jesus Christ!" he sputtered, looking up to see frustration sprawling across Mr. Mackey's face. The other students laughed a little louder this time.

"I suppose you think being disrespectful is funny, Eric?" Mr. Mackey's glare followed Cartman as he climbed back into his seat. "Well, it's not, m'kay. And neither is attempting to drown another student in the swimming pool."

"I was just baptizing Kahl. It was for his own good." Already, Mr. Mackey had ceased to listen. As Cartman took time to reflect on his behavior, he shrugged and decided: _Baptizing, drowning. Whatever's clever. Would have served that Jew bitch right if he drowned._ Just like that, he dreamily recalled Kyle thrashing under the water and seeing fewer and fewer bubbles rising to the surface. It was simply beautiful.

Mr. Mackey headed for the door, then turned to remind the students, "Now, I need to step out for a brief meeting. I'll be right across the hall. No talking or tomfoolery while I'm gone." The double doors swung closed. And open. "M'kay." And closed again.

An announcement crackled through the speakers. "Good afternoon, South Park Elementary. Would Mrs. Garrison please report to Principal Victoria's office? Thank you."

Cartman yawned, stretched, and stood. "It's been a tough day in detention, you guys. Finally, it's time to go home."

A couple of second-graders, doing time for smearing boogers, looked at each other quizzically. "Um, Mr. Mackey told us to stay here."

"Hello? No Mackey, no detention. Screw you guys, I'm going home." Cartman slid out of his chair and waddled out the door as fast as his legs would carry him. The handful of students who remained could not resist the open door and scuttled out after Cartman, quickly overtaking him. The two second-graders skipped joyfully, trailing their sticky hands along the walls. Cartman huffed and puffed, trying to keep up. He turned a corner only to be met with a gate blocking the way to the outside. "Aw, goddammit!" he rasped, then turned around, nearly running into Mrs. Garrison. Cartman darted into the janitor's closet before he could be seen, and Mrs. Garrison continued on her way to the meeting with the principal.

Safe inside the closet, Cartman sat in front of an air vent, which blasted him with gusts of cold air. Once he was sure that there was no one in the hallway, he reached for the doorknob, but stopped himself when he heard Butters' little voice. He looked around for the source, then pressed his ear against the vent. If he focused his attention, amidst the whoosh of air, he could hear everything.

Hearing the office door open, Butters sat bolt upright and looked to see who was coming in. _Oh, it's only Mrs. Garrison._ Butters tried to do all the right things; he listened, he tried to be helpful, and he told the truth. Just the same, he was back in the office, sitting across from Mr. Mackey, waiting for his parents to arrive.

He tapped his knuckles together. "Am I in trouble? What'd I do?"

"No, Butters, you're not in trouble, m'kay. But I'd like us to have a little talk with your parents."

Butters tried to believe that he was not in trouble because Mr. Mackey told him so. Still, he had a feeling that he would be in trouble very soon. Mr. Mackey also appeared to be analyzing his every movement, so Butters tried to act natural. "Uh... Lu lu lu, I've got some apples. Lu lu lu, you got some too." His voice was shaky. _I musta done something awful if he won't tell me what it is till Mom and Dad get here._ "Lu lu l-lu, let's make some applesauce... take off our clothes... and lu lu lu..."

"Oh, Jesus. I can't wait to hear this one explained," sighed Mrs. Garrison.

Mr. Mackey's eyebrows rose high on his large forehead. "'Take off our clothes and lu lu lu?' I'd like you to tell me what that means, m'kay."

The sound of footsteps and agitated adult voices in the hallway called Butter's attention. "Uh-oh." His hands fluttered anxiously when Principal Victoria and his parents stepped in.

"Please have a seat, Mr. and Mrs. Stotch," Principal Victoria gestured them to the chairs on either side of Butters. "I'd like to thank you both for taking the time to come in."

All eyes were on Butters. He didn't dare breathe.

"What's he done now?" barked Mr. Stotch.

"I only want to share some concerns about some comments your son made at a class meeting with the guidance counselor."

Butters wanted to disappear. _Whatever I said, I know Mom and Dad are gonna be sore. _

"Butters! Were you using foul language? Didn't I teach you anything about..."

Mr. Mackey forced a little power into his voice. "Mr. Stotch, I recently had a dialogue with your son's class, m'kay, due to several students' complaints about the behavior of a school employee. During that conversation, Butters made a statement about some... um... sexual activity going on between him and one of his family members, m'kay."

"Huh?" gasped Butters.


	2. Chapter 2

Mrs. Stotch raised her hands to her mouth. "Oh dear! We had no idea. If we knew, we would have put a stop to it." Her husband nodded to her; his eyes were closed and he swallowed a lump in his throat.

Butters thought about the class discussion, and thought about what he might have said that was bad. Then he remembered. The words had just tumbled out of him, and Butters didn't give it another thought. Sure, he was supposed to focus on whether Chef had touched him here or touched him there, but Chef's hands had always been busy serving the hot lunch, or wrapped around pretty ladies_. Chef ain't never tickled me anywhere. Only Uncle Bud does that, because he loves me._

Like always, Butters aimed to please. When he saw Detective Jarvis demonstrate something he recognized, he couldn't help announcing, "My Uncle Bud did that to me once!" There. _At least someone's paying attention to the nice man who came all the way from the police station to talk to us. _

Mr. Mackey leaned forward, his hands clasped on the desk in front of him. "Butters, please tell your parents what you told us, m'kay."

"W-well, the man asked us, 'Did Chef do this?'" To the shock of all the adults, Butters candidly pantomimed the detective performing anilingus on the doll. "And I told him that one time Uncle Bud put his mouth on my butthole."

"Oh my God!" squealed Mrs. Stotch.

Mr. Stotch leapt up and wrapped an arm around her. "There, there, Linda."

Clearing his throat, Mr. Mackey spoke. "I know this must be very difficult for you. Sexual abuse is bad, m'kay."

Looking at the stunned Stotches, Principal Victoria added, "But you shouldn't blame yourselves. We want to help..."

"That's right," Mr. Stotch continued, patting his wife's hand. "Don't blame yourself. Blame this delinquent for making up filthy lies about our family!" He smacked Butters in the back of the head.

Regaining her composure, Mrs. Stotch crossed her arms and glared at Butters. "Why would you do such a thing? Your Aunt Nellie and Uncle Bud are so good to you, and this is how you thank them?"

"I know Uncle Bud loves me," protested Butters. "That's why he tickled my butt with his tongue."

"That does it, young man," Mr. Stotch declared. "You are grounded!"

Butters looked at the floor. "Aww, gee." He knew it was coming.

A torrent of cackling noise echoed in the wall. "What was that? It sounds like someone laughing." Mrs. Stotch looked to Mrs. Garrison.

"Probably a gas leak," Mrs. Garrison answered without interest. "Something's always screwed up around here."

The noise continued, but Mr. Stotch ignored it, focused on Butters. "Now tell your teachers you're sorry for being a compulsive liar."

Mr. Mackey, Mrs. Garrison, and Principal Victoria watched in silence as Butters tapped his knuckles and repeated, "I'm sorry for being a c-compulsive liar."

"That's better," said Mr. Stotch. "I'm sorry our miserable excuse for a son was causing problems with all his smutty talk. I'm sure we won't have to have this conversation again."

"No, sir." Butters couldn't look at any of them. He was sure he remembered his uncle Bud stroking his back, then sliding a hand into the waistband of his polka dot pyjama bottoms, and... _No. I'm a liar and I need to stop making up stories about my uncle._

Mr. Stotch rose and led the way to the door. Mrs. Stotch grudgingly grabbed Butters by the arm and dragged him out of the office. "See you tomorrow, Mrs. Garrison," said Butters, sweetly, giving a parting wave.

Principal Victoria called after the Stotches, "Thank you again for..." The door slammed. "...for coming in."

Mrs. Garrison drew a long breath. "Wow. And I thought my family was fucked up."

"It's no wonder the Stotch boy is acting out sexually, m'kay. He is trying to reassure himself that someone loves him."

Principal Victoria was not convinced, "Excuse me, but aren't you two going to consider the possibility that what he said was true?"

"Oh, please." Mrs. Garrison crossed her legs and arms. "Kids make crap up. My whole class lies all the time. And the language! You wouldn't believe the shit that comes out of the little asshats' mouths."

"The sexual behavior is a problem. The students did not take Sexual Education seriously, m'kay."

"Why would they? There's the language, and then there's the way they dress. The tight pants, tank tops, I bet some of them even wear thong underwear. No wonder the boys are falling through the cracks; they're distracted by a G-string in someone's ass crack! Show them a thong, and they'll do anything." Mrs. Garrison's voice was rising. "Some schools have already banned thongs, and, as a woman, I find them degrading. I think South Park Elementary should be next to ban them."

Principal Victoria listened, but could not make sense of the tirade. "Are you sure that's a good idea? What if they become more interested in sexuality because it's 'forbidden'?"

Without missing a beat, Mrs. Garrison continued. "Sure, why not let them wear their thongs and two-ways, or get a prince albert for shits and giggles. Next thing you know, they'll be coming to school naked and screwing in the hallway. Should I just teach them how to use poppers while we're at it?"

"That's enough, Mrs. Garrison!" interrupted Principal Victoria. "If it's that much of a problem, we'll issue a ban on sexually provocative clothing."

Mr. Mackey blushed and cleared his throat. "I better go dismiss the kids in detention," and dashed across the hall. When he reached the safety of the library, he collapsed into a chair. It was such a relief to get away from the rush of estrogen flowing in the office that the absence of the students assigned to detention was inconsequential.

But public enemy #1 was much closer than Mr. Mackey realized. Cartman still sat motionless, scarcely breathing so he could hear Butters' confession, hanging off every word of the discussion. _My Uncle Bud... mouth on my butthole... grounded... fall through the cracks... thong underwear... they'll do anything. Sweet._ A sordid tale from Butters and the disclosure of a weapon of class disruption meant days of amusement ahead. Once Cartman was sure that the conversation in the office had descended into recaps of the newest episodes of "Hormonal Housewives" and that there were no more juicy details to be heard, he tiptoed out of the closet and out the gym door.

The frigid air hit him, and he hustled back to his neighborhood like there was a bucket of KFC waiting for him. "Funny. As. Fuck!" he panted, stopping to catch his breath. He looked up to see three shapes shooting baskets on the fenced-in court. Good, a captive audience. He shot across the street, where a car had to swerve wildly to avoid hitting him. "You guys! You guys!" Cartman yelled, and he fell to his knees on the asphalt, laughing and wheezing.


	3. Chapter 3

"Oh no." Already, Stan and Kyle didn't want to hear it.

Cartman stood, brushing the dust off his pants, having regained enough composure to speak. "I just heard Butters talking about his uncle sucking his ass!"

The other three boys were skeptical. "No, you didn't," Stan declared.

"Guys, I'm seriously! Butters' parents came in and grounded him because he's an uncle fucker!" Cartman broke into jubilant song: "Shut your fucking face, uncle fuckah! You're a cock-sucking, ass-licking uncle fuckah! Come on, Kinny, sing it with me! You know you want to."

Kenny gyrated and sang: (You're with your uncle gettin' sounded. That's the reason you got grounded!)

Cartman laughed, then stopped abruptly. "Wait, what's 'sounded'?" Now it was Kenny's turn to laugh uncontrollably, while his friends exchanged confused stares. Cartman resumed, "I know what I'm talking about. I met his uncle when I pretended to be AWESOM-O. Total creeper." Giving it some more thought, Cartman added, "I should have seen it before. Butters _would_ like taking it up the pooper." Kenny considered what he knew of Butters and seemed to advert to the evidence. Kyle and Stan looked troubled, not wanting to think of their friend that way.

"Look," Stan said severely, "Butters gets grounded all the time. There's no way it's because he was fucking his uncle."

"Wanna bet?" Cartman put his hands on his hips and added in a sassy tone, "If Butters tells us he fucked his uncle, Kahl has to fuck _his_ uncle."

"Fine!" Kyle shot back.

"Dude," warned Stan, putting a hand on Kyle's shoulder. But the redhead was on fire.

"But if you're wrong, you've gotta... dress in drag and fuck _your_ uncle!" Kyle was ready to shut Cartman up one way or another.

"Dude!" Stan had heard enough, but Kenny found the raised stakes intriguing.

Much to Kyle's chagrin, so did Cartman. "Ooh, Kahl. Is that what you fantasize about at night while you're counting your money?" Cartman caressed himself all over, giving his ass a little spank.

Stan covered his ears. "Whatever! Just... if we just ask Butters, can we stop talking about this?"

"Yes. And after Kahl fucks his uncle."

Kyle growled and seethed, following the others to Butters' house, tucking the basketball under his arm. _I wish I could smash fat boy's head in with this thing._

Up in his room, Butters sat hanging his head. His father towered over him; the angry lecture that began in the principal's office was finally drawing to a close. "As we speak, your mother is on the phone with your Uncle Bud, inviting him for a visit so you can apologize to him personally."

"Yes, sir." Butters still couldn't look at his father. _I don't know how he puts up with me and all my nonsense._

"That's that. Now turn over." It was like asking Butters to go brush his teeth. Butters complied, pulling down his pants and draping his body over his father's lap. THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! Mr. Stotch stood up, allowing Butters to clothe himself again. "Can you tell me why I spanked you, son?"

Butters gave his father a sidelong glance, then quickly looked away again. "Be-because you love me."

"That's right. Now go wash up for dinner."

All alone, Butters intended to obey his father, until he heard something heavy hit the window. A basketball. Butters looked out the window and saw his friends. Kenny and Cartman looked very pleased to see him, while Stan and Kyle looked pensive. (Hey, Butters!) called Kenny, through his parka.

"Oh, uh, hey guys," said Butters. "I can't come out and play on accounta I'm grounded."

"We know," Stan answered. "But—"

"Butt!" Cartman quickly covered his face with his hands. His anticipation was so great that any mention of nether regions, real or imagined, was more than he could handle.

Kyle shoved Cartman, who whined and rubbed his arm. "Could you tell us why you got grounded?" Kyle finished.

Stan, still unmoved, added, "It's sort of important, I guess."

Looking around, as if to make sure there were no younger children present to hear the tale, Butters confessed, "I was bein' real bad, see. I was makin' up bad lies about my uncle Bud. I shouldnta done that, 'cuz my uncle Bud loves me a whole lot."

Kyle shoved Cartman again. "Aha! I knew it!"

"Quit it, Kahl!" Cartman shoved Kyle back before turning his attention to Butters. "Butters, you fucktard! At school you said your uncle was licking your asshole!"

Innocently, Butters answered, "I said some naughty words, but my parents straightened me right out. I won't say my uncle did things he didn't do."

Stan, Kyle, and Kenny looked at Cartman, waiting for an explanation. "I'm not making this up!" Cartman yelled, stomping his foot peevishly. "You guys were there when he said it! It's not my fault you guys never listen to him!"

Kenny picked up singing again: (Better go get ready, uncle fuckah! Put on your hottest teddy, uncle fuckah!) He nudged Cartman and winked.

Cartman was enraged. "This isn't over, dickhole. You're gonna be sorry!" he screamed up at a startled Butters, who shut the window and disappeared. Cartman then turned his attention to Kyle, and his shouts turned into an eerie hiss, which was much more terrifying. "And you _are_ gonna fuck your uncle. I'll make damn sure of that."

Kyle rolled his eyes. _How does he never see what a hypocrite he is?_ _He makes it too easy._ "Is that what you fantasize about while you're stuffing your fat face?"

Cartman turned pale. "I…" He swallowed hard. Searching for support, he saw only Stan's disapproval and Kenny humming endless refrains of "Uncle Fuckah" to himself, before looking back to Kyle's cool smirk. Cartman blurted, "I'm not fat!" and scampered away.

Now it was Kyle's turn to enjoy a satisfied, but short-lived chuckle. "Gross, man. What if Cartman really _does_ fantasize about that?"

(Wouldn't surprise me. I think he's secretly into some kinky shit.) Kenny pictured Ms. Cartman's appearance in _Crack Whore Magazine_. (Maybe it runs in the family.)

"I gotta get home for dinner," said Kyle. "Later, guys."

"Me too. See ya, Kenny." The boys exchanged waves.

Before going home to see if there were still some Hot Pockets or at least some bottles of booze in the fridge, Kenny turned and looked up at Butters' window. The light was out, and Butters was nowhere to be seen. Kenny had thought the story was another one of Cartman's sick jokes, but alone in the silence, Kenny wasn't so sure. _Where does Cartman get this stuff? Butters wouldn't say something like that. Would he?_ Kenny's stomach was beginning to speak to him. (I guess I'll go home and see if there is anything for dinner.) He walked home, but looked over his shoulder every few moments, as if he thought he might see Butters come back to the window.


	4. Chapter 4

"Can I get you anything else, Poopsie-kins?" Ms. Cartman placed a bag of bacon-coated pork rinds next to a chocolate KFC-chicken pot pie on top of a plate of powdered doughnut pancake surprise. "Maybe a nice glass of chocolate milk?"

Cartman had expected a mountain of his favorite foods to help his mood, but how could it when Kyle was at home _not_ getting a piledriver from his uncle, no thanks to Butters? Then, he thought back to Mrs. Garrison's response to the meeting. _Thong underwear. Boys will do anything. _"Maaaaahm," pleaded Cartman, putting on his most adorable pout. "What are thongs?"

The warmth in her smile remained unchanged, delighted by her son's apparently innocent curiosity. "Well, Eric, they're underwear that show your bottom. Showing some bottom makes men pay more attention to you, and a thong gives them a place to tuck your money. Why do you ask?"

"No reason, Mahmmy. I love you." When his mother left the room, the plotting resumed. _I will make those guys pay. I will make them listen to me._

Across the train tracks, Kenny could hear his parents in their bedroom. _Smash!_ "You no-good son-of-a-bitch! You blew your whole cheque on whiskey and beer!"

Kenny's father hollered something unintelligible, and there were several thuds. Mrs. McCormick screamed. With his parents distracted, Kenny took the opportunity to root through the pantry for something more to eat. Half a bowl of lukewarm beef stock just didn't do the job. (Hmmm. Bread?) He opened the bag to find the insides of the slices coated green and slimy. (Nope. Cereal?) He opened a box. Just mice inside. Kenny stuffed the box back in the cupboard. (At least you bastards are full. What's in the fridge? Great, black bananas.) Kenny saw a case of Pabst Blue Ribbon. (Why not?)

He took two cans back to his room and tried to read comic books, but the noise down the hall prevented him from enjoying the story, at least until the alcohol kicked in. He was used to his parents' fights, but he began to wonder, _What if Cartman was right about Butters? Butters' parents are batshit insane. Who knows what the rest of his family is like._ On top of Kenny's growing guilt for joining in with Cartman's mockery, the idea of a lecherous man preying on Butters made Kenny's blood boil. (Something has to be done.)

"Something has to be done." Cartman pounded his fist on the desk. With his mother busy in the kitchen, he crept into her bedroom and began opening all the dresser drawers containing his mother's copious lingerie stash. "Mrs. Garrison said that boys will do anything if they see someone wearing thong underwear. Let's see Kyle and Butters resist these." He grabbed a fistful of thongs and ran back to his bedroom.

Once inside with the door closed, Cartman slid off his pants and briefs. He selected a black, ruffled little number and turned it over and over in his hands. "How do you tell the front from the back?" Finally, he sorted it out as best he could and stepped into it. Now, he looked at himself in the full-length mirror. He adjusted himself so that his private parts were cradled by a triangle of lace. A lace strap travelled up his backside. The waistband was stretchy enough to accommodate his frame, but dug into the fat on his hips. He turned around slowly, then slid out of his coat to get a better look. The tee shirt had to come off, too. Now, as Cartman stood wearing nothing but a shred of black lace, he could see himself clearly at all angles.

Even though he was used to the look of his nude body, and the thong left little to the imagination, it inspired Cartman to nod and breathe the words, "So fine." He slipped a finger into the waistband, pulled it outwards, then released it. The elastic snapped back into Cartman's hip, sending flesh rippling in all directions. "So damn fine." He stood with his legs apart and traced his sides with his fingers. "You _will_ do what I want, Butters. You will tell everyone about your uncle-fucking." He pointed into the mirror, imagining he speaking to the other boy and was exerting control even more powerful than usual over him. _Soon, I will have my very own thong-zombie. A thongbie, if you will._ As he let his hand drop, it grazed his thigh.

A chill shot up Cartman's spine. He was suddenly acutely aware of the rub of the lace on his skin, most of all in the sensitive spots between his legs. There was a slinkiness to the material that made it completely irresistible. His hand hovered over his groin, but he stopped himself. "I shouldn't have looked in the mirror. I can't run the risk of becoming a thongbie myself." He seemed to accept this affirmation, but a moment later, his hand was heading south again.

This was far from his first time dressing up in something frilly and skimpy. But this was the first time he could drink in the sight of himself so exposed. "You want me, don't you?" he whispered coyly to his reflection. One hand cupped his groin, stroking the organs through the lace. The whole area tingled, forcing him to his knees before he could lose his balance. His eyes squeezed shut at the unfamiliar sensation, the only way he could take his eyes off the mirror. When he opened his eyes again, he looked down to see what was making him feel so good, but was unable to see past his belly. Even the mirror seemed to tease him now; only a hint of the black thong was visible amidst his flesh. "Aw, dammit," he whined, needy. He lay on his back, allowing him easier access and a better view.

His erection was small but unrelenting, not unlike himself. It threatened to peek out the side of the thong. With thumb and finger, he kneaded the head, gasping as his foreskin pulled back, before tucking himself back inside the panties. Focusing again on his reflection, his recumbent pose evoked images of magazine ads, or better yet, a giant billboard over Interstate 70. His ill-fated past adventures in dress up could not have been farther from his mind; in this fantasy, gruesome car accidents piled up from drivers wanting to admire him. "Everyone will be mesmerized by my sweet ass. Especially…" His excitement reaching a crescendo, something prompted him to squeak, "Wow, Eric. I'd sure like to take off your clothes and lu lu lu…"

In his alarm from the words that escaped his mouth, he bucked his hips into his hand and gripped himself tightly. The tingling feeling was swallowed by something overwhelming. "Shhh…shit!" He flopped flat on his back and lay silent, save his heavy panting. Finally, he wiped his forehead with his hand. Both were wet. But his hand was sticky.

"Eric, honey!"

"What?" Cartman sat up quickly, his panting growing heavy again in surprise. "I mean, yes, Mahm?"

"Time to take a bath and get ready for night-nights."

Cartman wobbled to his feet and headed for the door, nearly forgetting his robe. As he hurried down the hall to the bathroom, he heard his mother's footsteps in her room. He quickly opened the door to the closet, kicked off the thong, and ran into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Sinking into the warm bath felt wonderful, and the feeling of contentment hung around like the steam in the air. But he couldn't erase the nagging memory of the words: _Take off your clothes and lu lu lu_. They played over and over in his mind from bath to brush to bed.

Later that evening, with her son long since trundled off, Ms. Cartman looked in the closet for an extra blanket. She retrieved it, but then the door wouldn't close. Puzzled, she looked down to see a black thing stuck in the door. Picking it up, she recognized it instantly. "So _that's_ where this got to. I don't know how it missed the laundry on orgy night."


	5. Chapter 5

While Cartman slept easily, rest eluded Butters. He kept his body quite still; it was his mind that was tossing and turning. _What am I gonna say to my uncle Bud when he gets here tomorrow?_ He knew he had to say he was sorry, at least if he wanted to have the freedom to leave the house ever again. But that wasn't enough of an answer. _You can't just say sorry because someone tells you to. It has to come from inside._ Lying alone in the dark and quiet always allowed his thoughts to speak a little louder than they could around other people. Those thoughts told him that what he had said about his uncle was not a pack of lies. It was a memory about which there was no mistake.

_I told Mom and Dad that I love Uncle Bud, and I know he loves me. I was trying to be a good nephew. So why'd I get in trouble with everybody?_ He sat up and rested his chin on his hands. It was during that visit to L.A. He rolled his eyes as he remembered tucking Eric "AWESOM-O" Cartman into bed after their first day there. _Now that's a liar who needed to get punished. But I gave him a darn good seeing to._ He giggled in spite of himself. _I don't think Eric will be dressing up like a lady anymore._ Every now and then he still popped that tape in the VCR to watch Cartman shaking his butt, juicy enough to rival that of Jennifer Lopez or Kim Kardashian.

Butters refocused himself. _Lessee, I put Eric to bed, and I went to finish sending all the money to needy children…_

With AWESOM-O "powered down" in the guest room, Butters tried to finish addressing the envelopes before bed. He was nearly finished when he heard Aunt Nellie's voice. "Butters, it's getting late. It's time to put on your PJ's and get ready for bed. You and your 'robot' have lots of sight-seeing to do tomorrow!" She was wrapped in a fuzzy pink robe, clearly ready for bed herself.

"Al-alright." Butters gave his aunt a squeeze. They exchanged good-nights, and he quickly changed into his polka-dotted pyjamas and brushed his teeth. Putting his toothbrush and toothpaste back into his overnight bag, he remembered his medicine.

"Good night, Butters." The boy looked up to see his uncle Bud's shape outside the bathroom door, which was slightly ajar. "Is it okay if I come in and give you a hug?"

Butters opened the door and wrapped his arms around Uncle Bud. "Well, sure!" he answered cheerily, and went back to the bag.

"So, ah… How're you liking your visit so far?" asked Bud, leaning against the counter. He seemed overly cool and slightly uncomfortable all at once.

_Maybe he's worried I'm not having a good time._ Quick to put that theory to rest, Butters beamed. "Gee, me and AWESOM-O are havin' so much fun! We're going to go help out some movie producers come up with more ideas tomorrow."

Bud nodded along with the news, and appeared to be nodding with his whole upper body. There was quiet for a moment, and Bud looked down at his nephew, who held a package of individually wrapped pills in his hand. "Whatcha got there?" Bud asked. There was that very offhand demeanor again.

"I gotta have my suppository. AWESOM-O usually gives it to me, but he's turned off right now." The words were innocent when spoken, but perverted when heard.

"Is that right?" Bud seemed to be smoothing the wrinkles out of his shirt, and continued long after any wrinkles could have survived. "Tell you what, kiddo. I can help you with that."

"You will?" Butters looked content. "You don't know how hard it is to get these in all by myself." He handed his uncle one of the tablets. No sooner had he done so than he felt Bud's other hand massaging his back. Slowly. Deeply. "That feels real nice," cooed Butters. He was used to his uncle's hugs that lingered just a little, or kisses that landed on his mouth or his neck.

Bud's gaze was fixed on the motion of his hand, which momentarily crept up to run fingers through Butters' hair. "You know, you have the most beautiful blonde hair. Just like your aunt."

"Aw, thanks!" Butters showed a sweet delight at the compliment. _Uncle Bud is way nicer than Mom and Dad. He doesn't think my hair looks silly._

"And you're cute like her. Especially when you sing that song."

"Y-you mean: Lu lu lu, I've got some apples, lu lu lu, you got some too!"

"Lu lu lu, let's make some applesauce, take off our clothes and lu lu lu," Bud crooned.

_Those ain't the words Aunt Nellie taught me. I can learn a lot from Uncle Bud._ Butters continued to hum as the hand then travelled down Butters' spine and slipped beneath the waistband of his pyjama bottoms. Bud clasped at the boy's soft buttocks before sliding the colorful cotton out of the way. At Butters' side, he took a long, hungry look at the boy's exposed lower half, continuing to rub the delicate pink skin. Not used to so much activity leading up to having his medication, Butters asked, "What're ya doin'?"

"Helping. Don't you feel better getting your back rubbed?"

"Uh-huh," Butters agreed, even though he wasn't sure that the places his uncle's hands were exploring now would still qualify as his back. _I guess it is because the word 'backside' has 'back' in it. Hmmm. Is my wiener part of my back, too?_

"Good, good." Bud opened the little packet and repositioned himself behind Butters. "Now, I need you to bend over for me."

Butters complied and said, "N-not too fast. If you go too fast, it'll hurt some."

"Don't worry, I won't," Bud replied. "Just to be on the safe side, I better try something. You like getting tickled, don't you?" Bud ran a playful hand up Butters' side, sending the little blonde into fits of giggles when the tickling reached his underarms.

"I sure do!" squealed Butters.

"Super. I'm going to tickle you some more." Bud used his free hand to spread Butters open, exposing his little pink hole.

Butters didn't know what to expect, but the feeling of something moist flicking against his skin certainly was not it. Wondering, he looked back to see that Bud seemed to be tickling him with his face. With his mouth. "You probably shouldn't do that." Bud looked up, eyes glassy, bracing to hear the child scream for his aunt and wake her. Instead, Butters warned, "My butthole is all ucky."

The man's sigh of relief was warm on Butters' skin. "Shhh. Just relax." Butters did his best, despite being confused by what his body was telling him. The boy squirmed, and Bud used one hand to bend Butters further, so that his upper half rested on the carpeted toilet seat cover. The carpet was soft, but scratchy, prompting Butters to stretch out his arms. Bud now had perfect access, and lapped eagerly. Growing bolder, Bud pressed his tongue against the tiny ring, and with less force than he would have expected, it popped inside. Butters started up a confused whimpering. This only seemed to incite his uncle's fervor. The tongue motions quickened, with more frequent dips inside. Butters tossed his head, needing to respond to the sensations flooding his system, and having few parts free to move.

Suddenly, Bud stopped and sat up. Through ragged breaths, he asked, "How did you like that?"

_I dunno what he's doing back there, but I don't wanna hurt his feelings or nothin'. _With a slight turn of his head, enough to see Bud out of the corner of his eye, Butters responded, "That… that was real okay."

"Yeah? Then let's get your suppository in there."

Butters felt the tip going in and bit his lip as Bud's finger followed, pushing the tablet deeper inside. "That's good, Uncle Bud. It's in."

Speaking almost before Butters finished, Bud explained, "Well, we want the medicine to do its job, right? So I'm going to try to help it some more. I love you, and I want you to… feel good." Bud nearly withdrew his finger, and pushed it in again. Both held their breath as the finger disappeared inside Butters. Bud was thrilled to find that Butters' condition that required suppositories also caused the boy's muscles to spasm erratically around his finger. After some further exploring in Butters' most private depths, stroking the boy inside just as he had his outside, Bud pulled back his finger and reentered with two.

Only now did Butters make a high-pitched cry. "No, it hurts! It hurts."

Ever keeping his cool, Bud removed his fingers from Butters and wiped them on his jeans. He was pleasantly surprised to find that the boy had made no protest until then. "That'll do the trick," Bud stated. "And you need to run along to bed, young man."

Butters stood up and put his pyjama bottoms back on. Already he could tell that he wouldn't be doing any running that night. He was just ready to get to bed. "Nighty-night, Uncle Bud!" said Butters, to which he got a grunted reply. As soon as Butters passed through the bathroom door, it shut heavily behind him, followed by the urgent unfastening of a belt buckle and zipper. Butters shrugged. "Huh. Guess he really needed to make." The last thing he remembered was crawling into bed next to AWESOM-O and drifting off.

Looking back at that night, Butters analyzed his actions over and over. "I just don't get it. He really did that, and I told the truth. What'd I do wrong?"


	6. Chapter 6

Butters sat on his bed, hugging his knees, furrowing his brow. The more thought he gave the matter, the more he felt his stomach twisting up on him. He flopped onto his back and stared blankly, hoping for sleep. _I'll think better if I can just get a little shuteye._ The silence was oppressive and forced his mind to invent sounds to hear. It sounded like footsteps coming from everywhere. Shadows taunted the eyes that could not close.

"It sure is spooky at night," Butters whispered to himself, needing to hear a human voice. "That shadow there almost looks like…" Butters jumped in surprise to see a crouching silhouette on his windowsill. In a reflex, Butters inhaled deeply to scream, but covered his face with his pillow in an attempt at protecting himself from the intruder, and from awakening his parents.

"Do not fear me, Butters," rasped the voice. The body was a child's, cloaked and masked, with a green question mark springing from the crown of his head.

This was a command that even obedient Butters could not follow. "Who are you? Are you a ghost or somethin'? Why are you h-here?" he squeaked, still hiding partially behind his pillow.

The boy in the window replied, "I am Mysterion. I know many things, for I walk in darkness. I know many secrets, the nameless terrors that cannot be spoken."

His explanation did little to calm Butters, who was already frightened of his guest's appearance; now he had to be afraid of that the boy knew. "You know my secret?" Only one secret came to mind: the one he kept in the closet. _He knows that I am Professor Chaos. It's too bad he'll find himself the victim of a terrible misfortune. I'll offer him some iced tea with sugar, but give him salt instead!_ Butters' voice was a little coarser when he added, "I suppose it was only a matter of time before my secret identity was revealed."

"Yes, I know all about your secret identity. But that is not the reason for my presence."

"It ain't?" He felt like mild-mannered Butters again at this news. A little bit of the Professor's boldness remained, prompting Butters to ask, "What secret do you know about?"

"I am here about your uncle."

"Son of a biscuit!" Butters turned away, fearing the worst. "I really got myself in a pickle talking about Uncle Bud." He covered his mouth, fearful that even saying his uncle's name was off-limits. "I'm sorry!"

Mysterion's eyes were nearly lost in shadow, but there was a flicker of sadness. "No. You are not the one who should be sorry. Your bastard uncle is."

"What do you mean?"

"I know you well, Butters. Lies aren't part of your nature, and neither is filth." Discussing the situation in words that would make sense to Butters wasn't easy, particularly when trying to keep up his austere image.

"My uncle was helping me with my medicine. I said it was somethin' dirty, but my Uncle Bud wouldn't d-do nothin' dirty." Butters echoed, still concerned about the possible consequences of his words.

"Forget your uncle; forget your parents. Hell, forget me. I'm asking you. Did it feel dirty?"

Butters crawled across his bed, inching closer to the other boy, who was perched like a caped gargoyle. "Yes." In this answer, there was no doubt. The weight of this epiphany plummeted down on him. No longer could something as simple as the act of offering help be trusted outright. When Butters raised his head, trying to meet Mysterion's eyes, he could see nothing but the cloaked silhouette. Mysterion, however, was met with the face of a child whose innocence had been damaged. It pained Mysterion, who had shed his innocence layer by layer at the hands of his own family, but he could not remember ever being as delicate as Butters. Seeing the boy wide-eyed and confused, Mysterion reminded himself over and over that he was not the cause of Butters' distress, but was shouldered with the task of showing Butters the concern that no one else in his world would.

Several moments of silence passed as Butters tried to process. "It don't matter what Mom and Dad say?"

"Only as much as you let it matter. What matters most is knowing that it wasn't your fault."

Even in the wake of discovering how deeply his uncle had betrayed him, Butters couldn't help but put his trust in the unknowable figure watching over him. "Mister Sterion, Uncle Bud is visiting us tomorrow. What do I do when my parents want me to say sorry to him?"

Mysterion had to steady himself to avoid revealing his shock and disgust with the idea that Butters would be made to apologize to his attacker. "That uncle of yours needs to be put in his place."

"Where's that?"

"I mean he should be punished. And your parents won't have a say in it."

Butters had hoped for a simple phrase he could say to his uncle to make the problem disappear. This was starting to sound like something dangerous that would only cause him more trouble later. Besides, his uncle had spent so much time being a good uncle to him. "Uh, I dunno. I don't wanna upset nobody."

"I won't make your decisions for you; it's too bad your uncle didn't show the same compassion. Only if you are ready for my help will I offer it." Seeing that Butters' only response was to lower his gaze and rub his knuckles together, Mysterion shook his head solemnly. "So be it. But should you find yourself in danger, I am never far away." The boy whisked his cape and took a fearless leap from the ledge.

_He oughta be careful. He could get himself killed trying something like that._ Once outside the window, the dark figure seemed to have vanished completely. In the midst of Mysterion's daring leap, something else caught Butters' eye. If he had blinked, he'd have missed it. On the back of Mysterion's waistband were two letters scribbled in marker. "K.M.? I wonder what that means. King Mysterion? He didn't look much like a king to me."

Butters slipped back into bed, pulling the covers up to his chin. The bed felt more inviting now. He was sure that when his uncle arrived, Butters could sit down to talk about it with him and life would go on. "I'll tell him that was bad, what he did, but I forgive him." The boy was satisfied with this, and was hopeful about the following day. "I'm glad King Mysterion came to see me. Even though he is a l-little scary." Butters had many questions and few answers. Yet, there was a strong, protective quality to his visitor. That was enough to let Butters ease into a dreamless sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

At 7:00 A.M., Ms. Cartman climbed the stairs to her son's room to wake him for school. Most mornings, she was met with incomprehensible whining and needed to negotiate with him over additional minutes in bed, only to finally coax him up with the promise of sugary breakfast treats. This particular morning, she had barely made it to the top of the stairs when she saw the bathroom light on and heard a little voice humming away. She peeked through the open door, and there was Eric combing his hair, a sweet smile on his lips and a song in his throat. He wore a dress shirt that she had never seen him wear voluntarily, and was that the smell of cocoa butter? Her heart melted as she watched him preening.

"Good morning! What's my little sunshine doing up so early?" She clasped her hands with delight. _Maybe César's training did the trick after all. I should give him a call and see if he wants some company tonight._

"Hello, Mahm. I just want to look my very best for school today."

Ms. Cartman sensed that there had to be some personal reason for the boy's behavior. Nothing dark and devious, but maybe… Of course! "Are you getting all dressed up for a special little girl?"

"No, no, silly Mahmmy." The pleasant demeanor remained. "I'm getting dressed up for a special little boy." He went back to adjusting his shirt collar, not noticing his mother raise a surprised hand to her mouth.

"Oh, I see. Well, pumpkin, I want you to know that I completely support what you're doing. And I'm sure your 'friend' won't be able to take his eyes off you." She stepped into the bathroom, placed her hands on Eric's shoulders and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Her darling Eric still wore an innocent smile on his face, but he was laughing on the inside. _No, he won't. Pretty soon everyone will know that Butters likes getting a crap tickle, and Kahl will be next._ "Why thank you," was all he dared say.

"Well, come on downstairs when you're finished. You'll need a good breakfast for your big day." She returned to the kitchen. Without needing to go through the daily drama of getting her son out of bed, she had ample time to prepare him something extra delicious.

The mention of breakfast prompted Cartman to lick the last of the cocoa butter off his fingers. _Not bad. _It was way better than the baking chocolate he had helped himself to at Stan's house earlier in the week. _Whoever sold that as chocolate needs to get their ass sued._ He made a quick trip back to his room to collect his hat and coat. The hat was on his bedpost, but the coat was still on the floor where he had left it the night before. As he bent down to pick it up, Cartman's new favorite accessory became visible over the top of his pants. It was a glittery hot pink thong, emblazoned with rhinestone hearts.

Cartman looked over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looked himself over, more pleased than ever, and turned his attention to the stuffed frog lying on the bed, propped up against a pillow. "What do you think, Clyde Frog?" Cartman answered himself through the side of his mouth. "'Why Eric, I am feeling so drawn to you right now. Your wish is my command!' Thank you, Clyde Frog, but I must be going. Perhaps later you can shower me with admiration." He wanted time to hurry up so he could get to school and take control of Butters, Kyle, and anyone else he saw fit. The smell of waffles met him on the stairs. He could wait a little longer. There was definitely time for waffles.

Kenny was up early, too. He was even the first to the bus stop. While his three friends needed time to adjust to the crisp mountain air before leaving home, Kenny spent his nights in a house with no heat and some holes in the walls. At least school had a guaranteed lunch and plenty of girls who might tantalize him with miniskirts, the humble beginnings of breasts, or a lacy strap slipping free from under clothing. This morning, girls weren't important. _No, girls are always important. But I gotta find out if Butters is doing okay._

When Stan and Kyle joined him, they tossed a greeting in his direction and went back to jabbering about math problems or Kyle's upcoming basketball game or something. _Is that all they have to say? A kid – our friend! – could be going through hell right now._

"Hey, what's the matter, Kenny?" Stan gave his friend's arm a little shake to get his attention.

(Huh?)

"You look really tired. Didn't you get any sleep last night?"

(Nah. I couldn't sleep. I had a lot on my mind.) That was as much as he wanted to say. They were his best friends, but they'd never understand the whole story. They'd never believe that he woke up in his bed, not after sleeping, but after taking a skull-shattering fall from a window. They certainly wouldn't understand that it was Butters' safety he had had on his mind. _I'm not even letting Butters know I'm worried about him, so there's no way I'm telling these guys about that. It'd sound like the gayest thing ever. I'll just watch for anything that doesn't seem right._

It wasn't long before all three boys spotted something that didn't seem right. Along came Cartman, who seemed to be walking a little differently than usual. Slowly. More carefully. Stan and Kenny looked blank, but Kyle chortled as Cartman wordlessly joined the group. Kyle wanted to keep his comments to himself, but he couldn't hold back. "Wow, fatass. Looks like your uncle kept you on the edge of your seat last night." Stan and Kyle eagerly awaited an atomic temper tantrum, but uncle jokes had completely lost their appeal for Kenny.

Inside his yellow mittens, Cartman's fists began to tighten. He shoved his hands into his pockets and reminded himself to hold off his fury a little longer. Soon, he'd be yanking their strings, with a little help from his G-string. "Kahl, let's leave the lame comedy to Jimmy, if you don't mind."

Kyle did mind, but only because Cartman was so stoic, not getting upset or hurling an anti-Semitic tirade at him. _I hate this calm act. He always gets like this right before he does something psychotic. Not this time, you asshole._

The bus pulled up, and the boys piled on. Kyle chatted with Stan while keeping a watchful eye on Cartman, who still suspiciously appeared to be on his best behavior. Kenny climbed onto the bus last. He scanned the seats for Butters and quickly spotted him sitting by himself, looking preoccupied. Pausing, Kenny almost asked how Butters was doing, but the bus was too quiet. He could check on Butters later.


	8. Chapter 8

The kids got off the bus and kicked the snow off their shoes as they filed into the school. On one side of Butters shuffled Kenny, keeping an eye on his friend. He was watching for any sign that something was amiss, but he wasn't sure what that would look like, as Butters was usually all sunshine and rainbows. On the other side was Cartman. The chubby boy was packed tightly into dress clothes, clearly trying to turn on the charm. "Oh, Butters! _So_ nice to _see_ you!" he chirped, patting Butters on the arm. "What's goin' on?"

Kenny rolled his eyes. _Whatever. Drop the act and leave the kid alone._

"Well, my uncle is coming to visit for the weekend." He tried to sound happy, but anxiety seeped into the words. Kenny gravitated closer to the other two boys so that he could be included in the conversation.

"That's so kewl." The act continued. "Maybe I can bring over a plate of my mahm's delicious cookies for him to have." Cartman looked at Kenny and made a spectacle of winking and pointing at the unknowing Butters.

Butters trusted in every word. "That'd be awful nice. Then everybody'd feel b-better and Uncle Bud could leave."

Finally, Kenny asked, (Is everything okay at home?)

"Yes, it almost sounds like you don't want your uncle to visit," Cartman added, a little louder than necessary, expecting all the boys to immediately stop in their tracks and listen to him. Stan and Kyle were walking a few steps ahead and kept discussing the latest episode of _Family Guy_. They were used to tuning Cartman out, and made sure to add some extra enthusiasm to their chatter about one of Cartman's least favorite things. Still using his outdoor voice, Cartman continued. "After all, I thought you _loved_ your uncle. It seems kind of strange that – oh no!" Abruptly, Cartman forcefully tossed his books, pencils, and crayons at Stan and Kyle.

Stan bumped into Craig, who automatically jabbed him with his elbow. Kyle skidded on some pencils, crashed into Bebe and pinned her against a locker. Unlike Craig, Bebe did not object to the close contact. "Hey, handsome." Kyle paid her no attention, and was already turning towards Cartman. "What the fuck was that for?"

"How clumsy of me. I have dropped all of my school supplies." Cartman enunciated each syllable, one of his many attention-getting devices. "I will just have to bend down and pick them all up." Cartman tried to align his ass with Butters' line of sight. _That's right. Take a good look, and you'll tell us about your uncle taking a taste of your Hershey Highway. And give me all of your lunch money._ Brimming with anticipation, Cartman bent down to pick up his things, and a sparkly pink strap became visible over the top of his pants. He fully expected Butters to launch into an even more graphic retelling than the one in Principal Victoria's office. Instead, he heard a commotion from inside Mrs. Garrison's classroom. He looked up to see all the kids, including Butters, clustered at the door, not paying him a shred of attention. "Weak."

Mrs. Garrison was blocking the door so that none of the kids could get in. "Okay, children, today we will be introducing a new school policy. Starting today, all teachers are required to make sure students are wearing appropriate undergarments." Confusion rippled among the kids. "That means no thongs, g-strings, two-ways, banana hammocks, and no freeballing."

"What, now?" asked Butters.

"All the raunchy skankiness in this class is going to stop. Frankly, it is offensive to my delicate feminine constitution. Alright Pip, get in here and drop your drawers."

Pip had no wish to be first, but was happy to get the matter over with as his classmates snickered. "Right-o," Pip squeaked as he stepped into the classroom.

In the hall, Cartman had just finished scooping up all of his books and writing utensils, disappointed to have lost his audience. He joined the back of the cluster of children only to overhear Wendy and Bebe's nervous whispers. "You don't think she's really going to make us pull our pants down in front of everyone… do you?" Even Bebe had to draw the line somewhere.

Wendy tried to sound more confident than she felt. "No, no. I don't think so. There's no way Principal Victoria would let her do that."

Mrs. Garrison spoke again. "Okay. You won't need to pay a visit to the principal. Go take your seat." Wendy and Bebe gaped.

Pip was relieved. "I promise you, Mrs. Garrison. I would but deign to wear naughty knickers."

"Yeah, yeah, shut your piehole already." All the boys laughed at Pip from force of habit. But it wasn't their usual laughter, knowing that they were not far behind. Mrs. Garrison beckoned, "Jenny, you're next."

Only Cartman was able to laugh to his heart's content. He was being practically invited to remove his pants for all to see. _Awesome. I'll go last, and then I'll unleash my weapon of class disruption. Mrs. Garrison will never be able to restore order._ He watched attentively as the group of children ahead of him got smaller and smaller.

"Silk boxers. Very nice, Token." Token pulled up his pants and took his seat, exchanging pissed expressions with Craig. "Kyle, you're next." Cartman stood on his tiptoes, straining to see what would happen. Kyle didn't move. "Come on, Kyle. I'd like to get you all checked this year."

"I'm not showing you my underwear."

"You don't have a choice, Kyle."

Stan didn't want to watch his best friend be exposed in front of the class. It was bad enough that he had had to see it happen to Wendy. _But damn, was she cute in her My Little Horsie panties… No, Stan. Focus._ "But Mrs. Garrison, if you're making us show you our underwear, isn't that just giving more attention to something you think is getting too much attention in the first place?"

Kyle added, "Plus, I would never wear a thong. That is really, really gay."

Cartman snorted. _Getting boys to do whatever you want is gay, Kyle? We'll see about that._ Cartman reached between Stan and Butters and shoved Kyle through the doorway.

Still refusing to stop, Mrs. Garrison pulled on Kyle's waistband. "Terrence and Phillip boxers. You're in the clear, but you're not going to get laid anytime soon." An appalled Kyle took his seat, watching Mrs. Garrison with contempt as she checked Stan, Kenny, and Clyde. Clyde was visibly frightened, but unzipped his jeans just the same. Upon lowering his pants, the bottom of his colostomy bag draped below his shirt. Stan looked away, feeling more uncomfortable now than when he had to show his own underwear. Cartman craned his neck around the kids in front of him to get a peek before burying his face in his sleeve, trying to pass his laughter off as a coughing fit. Satisfied, Mrs. Garrison knelt down next to Clyde, and lectured, "I know with your… condition… your underwear aren't the first thing anyone's going to be looking at. But tighty-whities? That's just dorky. Next!" Clyde buttoned his jeans again and went to his seat, where he buried his face in his hands, breaking into muffled sobs. Stan reached over and patted Clyde on the shoulder.

Finally, only Cartman and Butters remained to be checked. Cartman hid behind the doorframe to be sure that Butters was checked first and sitting front row center when it was Cartman's turn. "Let's go, Butters." Mrs. Garrison stood with her hands on her hips.

Butters stalled. _King Mysterion told me I shouldn't haveta take off my pants if I don't want to. _He stepped timidly through the door, eyes on his desk.

Trying to catch Butters' attention without being noticed by anyone else, Kenny shifted in his seat. _If Mrs. Garrison makes him do that, he's going to think it's okay for any pedo to touch him._ Kenny got out of his seat. (Mrs. Garrison, you've checked almost everybody. Isn't that good enough?) Butters' eyes made the same plea.

"Kenny, take your seat. I am required to check every student. My hands are tied." She reached for Butters' waistband.

(I wish your hands were tied, you tranny bitch.)

"That's nice, Kenny. Go ahead, Butters." No luck. Now, Butters only saw the desk where he desperately wanted to be and his teacher's expectation for him. The boy exhaled and dropped his pants. Some of the other kids still had the nerve to snicker, even after baring their underwear. "What the –?"

In the hall, Cartman could barely breathe from laughing at the sight of Butters in his Hello Kitty training pants. Butters tried to offer Mrs. Garrison a discreet explanation. "I gotta wear 'em 'cos of my heshiated colon." He thought for a moment, then asked softly, "Do you need to check my wiener, too?" He fully expected the answer to be yes, like when Uncle Bud needed to check him.

"No, of course not. Go have a seat. And remember, ladies like me don't want to hear about Captain Winkey and his two first mates."

"Uh, okay then." Butters took his seat.

Mrs. Garrison surveyed her work. Before her sat a class of quiet children wearing acceptable clothing. "Well, I guess that's everyone. And if we keep the sexual behavior out of the classroom, we may not need to have underwear checks every day."_ None of them will dare to act up now,_ she thought, pleased.

Her sense of contentment didn't last, as Cartman shot through the classroom door with a precarious stack of school things in his arms. "My turn! My turn!"


	9. Chapter 9

Cartman stood before Mrs. Garrison, clasping his hands and batting his eyes. As for Mrs. Garrison, she squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head. "That's quite alright, Eric. You may take your seat." _Please, God, don't make me scope out the mother of all fat asses._ She opened her eyes, hoping, expecting to see Cartman anywhere other than directly in front of her. But there he was.

"But you're supposed to check everybody!" A little bit of Cartman's frustration burst forth, but he regained control of it. "Part of being an educator is treating all students equally." There was nothing easy about preaching equality through clenched teeth, even though he knew Kyle would see it differently.

Kyle stood up at his desk. "Oh, don't you even."

Cartman pulled on Mrs. Garrison's arm. "It's not fair to give me special treatment just because I'm smarter than everyone else. Especially Kyle."

_I want to let that blubbery piece of shit have it. Smarter than everyone? Who the fuck is he kidding? No, no. I won't sink to his level this time_. Kyle calmed himself down and tried to appeal to Mrs. Garrison's selfishness. "Doesn't anyone else think it's a little bit strange that Cartman wants everyone to see his underwear so bad?" Kyle saw the unmistakable gleam of scheme in Cartman's eyes. _He's definitely got something up his sleeve. Or down his pants… Sick._

When Mrs. Garrison seemed to be agreeing with Kyle, Cartman refused to give her the chance. He marched to the center of the classroom, making sure Butters and Kyle would have a perfect view, spun around and dropped his pants. There was dead silence for a few moments as the glittery hot pink strap embedded in Cartman's flesh burned itself into the memory of everyone in the room. Suddenly, everyone reacted at once. Wendy covered her eyes. Tweek convulsed violently. Token threw up a little in his mouth. Cartman grinned like the Cheshire Cat. _Yes. It is beginning to have an effect._

"Eric!" shrieked Mrs. Garrison. "What in God's name are you doing?"

Cartman looked at his prime targets. Kyle was sitting motionless with a bizarre expression on his face, looking as if he had frozen in time while gearing up to sneeze. As for Butters, he was leaning forward onto his desk, tilting his head one way, then the other. He had a hint of a smile, but like Kyle, was transfixed. _The time of reckoning has come. _"Butters, tell everybody about your uncle tickling your butt!" There was another wave of surprise. Wendy put her head down on the desk and covered her ears. Tweek fell out of his chair. Token ran to the trash can and brought up his breakfast.

"Uh, I don't think I wanna…" Butters began, but something about the sight of that bare skin framed in sparkly pink made him change course. "Well, I was visiting my uncle Bud and I needed my…"

Mrs. Garrison grabbed Cartman's arm, turning the boy sideways so that the thong and its territory were hidden from the students. Butters fell silent. _Why would I tell that story again? That's just asking for a whooping._

Filled with rage and disgust, Mrs. Garrison scolded, "This is outrageously inappropriate!"

"I know!" Cartman shouted as Mrs. Garrison dragged him towards the chalkboard. "You checked everyone's underwear but mine, and now you won't let Butters tell his story-y-y!" The whining that worked like a charm on his mother was not working here.

When it became clear that Cartman was hung up on some injustice that only he could dream up, Mrs. Garrison sighed a desperate "What am I going to do with you?"

"Make him pull up his pants, maybe," suggested Kyle.

"Jew-boy's jealous!" Cartman taunted. He turned, placed his hands on his knees, and gave Kyle an obscene rear view.

(Woo hoo!) hooted Kenny, who was happy to get everyone's focus off of Butters. Most of all, he enjoyed Kyle's disturbed reaction to seeing a side of Cartman he never wanted to see.

Bill and Fosse had been giggling to each other since the beginning of the underpants inquisition, but they were much louder now. "He got on pink underwear."

"Heh heh, that's gay."

"Yeah, gay."

Mrs. Garrison looked at Cartman, who was again talking to Butters. Cartman's patience was running out. "Come on, Butters!" He sat all over himself and all over Butters' desk.

In response, replied with a meek, "M-m-my unc-cle opened the d-door…" He covered his mouth._ It's like my body's havin' a big ol' fight. I don't wanna tell that story, but when Eric asks, I feel like I hafta._

Kenny and Kyle got in between. Kyle tried to shove Cartman off Butters' desk, and Kenny snapped his fingers in front of Butters' face to get his attention. The boy kept staring at Cartman, or rather, staring at Cartman's ass. (Oh shit.) Kenny turned Butters and shook him, trying to snap him out of the trance.

Bill pointed at Stan, who was stroking Wendy's hair and promising to tell her when it was safe to look again. "Ha, Stan loves Wendy."

"Stan's so gay."

_There they all go, falling through the cracks. _Knowing that she was losing her students, Mrs. Garrison shouted, "Everybody sit down and shut up!" Out of surprise more than obedience, everybody sat down and shut up. Even Cartman, who just sat down on the floor where Kyle had knocked him. "That does it. Eric, you are going to stand up here by the board as an example of inappropriate school attire." The half-naked boy picked himself up and stood by the board, none too disappointed by his punishment. A few snickers made their way around the room, and Mrs. Garrison added, "And anyone else who disrupts my class can join him!" There was not a peep from the seated students until lunchtime.

Those hours flew by for Kenny. Usually, time at school went quickly because he amused himself with a girlie mag stuffed inside his textbook, and because he was never in any rush to go home. Today, his thoughts kept returning to Butters. Not that he preferred the boy to his centerfolds, of course. _Man, I just can't let this go. Why am I so hung up about this kid? _Kenny's own home life was nothing to brag about, but at least when he was punished, it was because he deserved it. In the Stotch home, anything was fair game for grounding. Cartman was up at the front of the room, with a shallowly penitent face until Mrs. Garrison's back was turned. Never giving up on winning a bet, Cartman shimmied like the girls in the videos Kenny borrowed from his dad's private collection. _Why does everyone give Butters shit all the time? I guess if I don't watch out for him, no one else will. If I stand by while that man hurts Butters again, I can't call myself a superhero._

The hours were also going by rapidly for Butters. _Lunchtime already? I bet Uncle Bud is home with Mom and Dad right now._


	10. Chapter 10

Stan, Kyle, Kenny, Butters, Craig, and Clyde took their lunch trays to their table, but Butters didn't feel much like mini corn dogs and potato wedges. _I know I'm hungry, but my tummy is in one big knot._ After staring at his tray for a few minutes, he got up from the table to go to the bathroom.

"Aren't you going to eat your lunch?" Stan asked.

Craig was, as usual, unmoved. "After this morning, I didn't feel much like eating, either."

"I just don't feel so good, fellas." He noticed Kenny, whose plate was already empty. "Kenny, you can have some of my corn dogs if you want."

Kenny looked at Butters' full plate, then back at Butters. (Thanks, dude.) He didn't want to let on just how hungry he was, but this was his first real meal since lunch the day before. A can and a half of beer did not count as a meal. He nibbled at the corn dogs, thinking, _Life can be a bitch when you're the sissy or the poor kid. We gotta stick together._

Turning a corner to get to the bathroom, Butters spotted Cartman near the drinking fountain, his lower half still mostly bare. "Hey Butters. Don't you feel like giving me a little somethin'-somethin'?" He motioned with one hand as if he were taking out a wad of money.

Butters beamed. "Well, sure, Eric!" He wrapped his arms around as much of Cartman as he could and rested his head on the larger boy's shoulder. A few nearby kids stopped in their tracks to stare at the two boys.

"That's not what I meant! Get the hell off." Cartman pried Butters from his coat. "I meant, would you like to take your money and put it here?" He pointed at the strap buried in his hip. Imitating his mother with some of her 'gentleman callers', Cartman faced the wall, braced himself with his hands, and spread his thick legs.

Cartman's posture spoke to Butters more clearly than words. "Uh-huh." _His butt is all fluffy like whipped cream._ "But, I already bought my lunch, and all I got left is some nickels and some pennies and maybe a dime." Butters dug into his pocket and came up with an assortment of coins.

Cartman rolled his eyes. "Why do you have to suck so hard? Fine, just slide them in." He nudged his hip towards Butters.

"Hmm." Carefully, one by one, Butters inserted the coins. _It's like one of those rides at the grocery store. Maybe when I'm done, Eric will give me a piggyback ride._ The idea of wrapping his arms around Cartman's neck and being carried away with him made Butters shiver with delight. With the beginnings of a coin collection inside the strap, Butters announced, "There ya go! That's all."

"Not much, but it's a start. Now we gotta go find Kahl."

"Wh-what for?"

Cartman walked backwards so he could face Butters, and explained in one breath: "Because I need you to tell Kahl that you screwed your uncle so that I'll win the bet and he'll have to fuck his uncle and I can put it on the Internet so everyone will laugh at him so much that he'll get a brain tumor—" Cartman took a much needed breath. "—and di-i-ie!"

The explanation was lost on Butters, who was following only the flash of rhinestones. _Gee, I was lookin' forward to that ride. Maybe if I give him a little more... _Neither boy noticed Principal Victoria until Cartman backed into her. He looked up and froze.

She tried to look at him without looking at _all_ of him. "There you are, Eric. You will be spending your lunch and recess time in my office."

"What?" Cartman spat as she took him by the hand and led him away.

"Aww, please, Principal Victoria, let 'im stay," pleaded Butters. "I didn't get to ride him yet." His innocence again let him say things that would have gotten him grounded for sure if his parents were in earshot.

"Uffdah!" she gasped, simultaneously trying to get a more solid grip on Cartman, who was twisting his hand to free himself. "So this is what Mrs. Garrison was talking about." She noticed the coins squeezed in the strap. "This is the last thing the Stotch boy needs."

As they walked down the hall, Cartman continued his loud, wiggly protest. "This is bullcrap! Rrrgh… Garrison perved on us, everyone in class saw me already… nnngh… I've only got 48 cents, and no uncle story!"

Butters watched Cartman until Principal Victoria shut the door behind them. With Cartman out of view, Butters' attention returned to the clenching in his stomach, and he scooted to the bathroom.

In the cafeteria, Kenny was beginning to wonder what had become of Butters, and how much of Butters' lunch it was acceptable to eat. Before he could ask either question, Clyde seemed to become aware of the empty seat. "Is he coming back?"

Stan and Kyle looked at the seat, around the cafeteria, then at Clyde. "I dunno, dude," Stan said with a shrug. "He said he was going to the bathroom."

"That was forever ago," Kyle answered.

Images of Butters being coerced by his uncle into a creepy van from the early 1980s flashed through Kenny's mind. _I gotta look for him._ Kenny stood. (I gotta… take a shit,) he announced before he left the table.

"If Butters has been in the bathroom all this time, you should probably hold it," Craig warned, but Kenny ignored him. By now, Kenny was picturing Butters' uncle promising candy in the back of the 1980s van. Kenny kept his cool until he was around the corner and out of his friends' sight. He shot down the hall to the bathroom and burst through the blue door.

Finding Butters was that easy. The boy was standing at the urinal, pants around his ankles, shirt pulled up to his chest. He took no notice of Kenny and appeared to be in his own world, giving his wiener a pep talk. "Aww, you can do it. I know you got it in you." There was silence for a second, then the sound of Butters relieving himself. "That's right, little man. Let it all out."

Kenny didn't dare move. He was glad he'd found Butters, but the sight of the boy standing there so exposed and so naïve to everything going on around him was disturbing in a new way. Kenny felt like running away, but he didn't want to startle Butters, either. _Oh, Butters. Pissing like that is just asking for it. Well, not 'asking for it', but it's gonna get him in more trouble.  
_

Kenny was still frozen when Butters turned his eyes to the mirror and spotted him. "Hi, Kenny!"

(Hey. You know, you…) Much as Kenny wanted to suggest that Butters adopt a different, more covered up bathroom behavior, he couldn't bring himself to say it. (…You were cool to let me have some of your corn dogs.)

"No problem!" said Butters, who finished and pulled his pants up. Kenny pretended not to notice the training pants patterned with Hello Kitty mid-skip. But he did notice them, adding to the horror at what a grown man had done to him. Butters was washing his hands now, and again looked at Kenny in the mirror. It was Butters' turn to sound concerned. "What's wrong? You look like you seen a ghost."

(No. Nothing.) Kenny pulled his hood tight. _Ugh. I sound like a tool. Why can I only sound cool when I'm playing superheroes? _(I just wanted to see how you were doing, after the whole thing with Garrison and Cartman.)

Butters thought about this as he dried his hands. "Well, I didn't like it when Mrs. Garrison made me p-pull my pants down in front of everybody. But you gotta look on the bright side. There's always something crazy happening around here, and pretty soon nobody will even remember."

At first, Kenny was glad that Butters was not letting the intrusion bother him. _Wait. Maybe it __**should**__ bother him. I don't want him feeling bad, but adults will keep hurting him over and over._ Kenny took a deep breath. (But Mrs. Garrison's our teacher. That's messed up!)

"She musta had a good reason."

(There's _no_ good reason to pants a kid in front of the class!)

"But I had it comin', 'cos I have a dirty mouth."

(You have a dirty mouth? That fucking bitch put her hands on you, and you have a dirty mouth?) Butters covered his mouth with his hands, as if that would stop Kenny's stream of obscenities.

"Kenny, you shouldn't say stuff like that."

(Somebody needs to. What matters most is knowing that it wasn't your fault.)

Butters opened his eyes wide. "You sound just like this king I met last night."

(Uh… this 'king' didn't touch you anywhere, did he?)

"No way! I thought he was scary at first, but not when I got to know him."

(And are you sure this wasn't a dream?)

"It wasn't no dream. He came and sat on my window. His name was King Mysterion."

(_King_ Mysterion?)

"Yeah. I was real worried about my uncle coming to visit, but now I feel alright. It's nice to have a king looking out for you to make sure nothin' bad happens." The bell rang. Lunch period was over. "We better get goin'. I wanna ask Eric when he's gonna give me my piggyback ride." Butters skipped back to class, just as merrily as Hello Kitty herself.

(What just happened? And since when does that fat pig give out piggyback rides?) Kenny wondered. (Well, if "King" Mysterion helps Butters stand up for himself, I can live with that.) He pushed the bathroom door open and joined the kids making their way back to class.


	11. Chapter 11

In the afternoon, Mrs. Garrison's classroom was every teacher's dream. The children quietly did their assigned reading of Greek myths, made a timeline on the life and career of Rock Hudson, and even made a class list of changes in the body during puberty without so much as a snicker. Everyone in the room was on his or her best behavior. Anything to avoid daily repeats of the underwear inquisition.

Cartman was not there. He had eaten his lunch in Principal Victoria's office, but not before giving her a full rear view, hoping to make her hand over her jelly doughnut and take him back to the cafeteria. He was successful only in earning a visit to Mr. Mackey, who was trying his best to make sense of Cartman's behavior.

"I'm trying my best to make sense of your behavior, m'kay. This is the third time you've had to see me this week."

"No, it's the second time."

"I had to see you yesterday for attempting to drown Kyle Broflovski, and on Monday for causing Kelly Nelson to vomit in the hallway."

Cartman crossed his arms and scowled. "That doesn't count. You can't prove I did that."

"My point is, Eric, we are concerned about your behavior, and we need to get to the bottom of it, m'kay." Mr. Mackey studied Cartman, who still bristled with defiance. The sight of Cartman's exposed belly and legs made the counselor uncomfortable. When seated, Cartman looked as if he was wearing nothing below the waist. "Eric, where are your pants?"

"How the hell should I know? Garrison wanted to see me naked so bad, I bet she's gonna keep them."

"Well, according to Mrs. Garrison, you exposed yourself to the class, m'kay. Exposing yourself, that's bad. We can't have you distracting other students."

"That's fine! The only person who needs to see my underwear is Butters!" In his frequent visits to the office, Cartman always had a bizarre rationale ready. This was no exception.

Mr. Mackey adjusted his glasses. "Why does Butters need to see it?"

"If you get off my ass and let me show him, you'll find out." Cartman had already come tantalizingly close to getting Butters to tell the story for all, but especially Kyle, to hear. _I will get that story._

"I'm afraid you can't do that, m'kay. Your clothing choice is against school policy. You're going to be on in-school suspension until dismissal."

In frustration, Cartman's arms and legs flailed. Unwilling, and perhaps unable, to control himself any longer, he wailed, "If I don't get Butters to tell that story now, Kahl is going to find some Jew loophole to get out of doing the chocolate cha-cha with his uncle."

Puzzled, Mr. Mackey employed one of the most useful tricks of the trade he had picked up while working towards his online degree. "I see. Tell me more about that, m'kay."

By the end of the day, Kyle finished his multiplication problems and looked at the clock to see that there were only fifteen more minutes before the weekend started. _Cool. It's a nice change to just learn stuff without Cartman interrupting all the time._ A knock on the door caught everyone's attention. Immediately, Kyle was beating himself up. _Dammit. I jinxed it._

"Come in," said Mrs. Garrison, opening the door. Mr. Mackey stood at the door with Cartman in tow. She saw the glazed look on Mr. Mackey's face. "What's the matter?"

In a low voice, Mr. Mackey informed Mrs. Garrison, "Eric is a deeply troubled boy."

"What else is new?" She watched Cartman approaching Butters, and the two began having some sort of negotiation.

"Well, he seems to have an obsession with males seeing his buttocks. I think it stems from lack of a male role model in his life, m'kay." The whole class and both teachers watched blankly as Butters climbed onto his chair, wrapped his arms around Cartman's neck and his legs around Cartman's sides.

Again, Mrs. Garrison snapped, "What else is new?" A confused Cartman tried to shake Butters off, but Butters clung tightly and appeared to be enjoying the ride. Other students began to laugh.

Bill pointed at the entangled boys. "That looks so gay."

"Ha, they're gay," answered Fosse.

Mrs. Garrison was not about to lose the peaceful classroom she had cultivated during the day. "Eric and Butters! Take your seats!" Butters let go of Cartman's neck, and slid down into his chair again. Cartman stayed standing, his anger rising to a boil at having been thwarted again.

"I believe Eric here has something to say to all of you, m'kay." Before Cartman could turn his head to give Mr. Mackey a death glare, the counselor had slipped out the door and closed it behind him.

"Yes," Mrs. Garrison agreed. "You owe all of us an apology for your repulsive choice of underwear." When Cartman balked and pouted, Mrs. Garrison brandished a ruler from her desk. "Now, Eric!"

"I'm sorry I broke school policy and flashed my hot ass at other people." Cartman wasn't so much speaking as sighing. He was fully prepared for the anger still showing all over Mrs. Garrison's face. He steeled himself for a blowout.

"I've had it up to here with people like you!" The top of her bald head went pink.

Ready for everyone to put the events of the day behind them – and most importantly, for Cartman to cover up – Kyle stood. With his head still turned slightly so he wouldn't risk seeing Cartman, he announced, "You know, I've learned something today. If something is supposed to be hidden from everybody, it should stay that way. You don't go around asking people about their personal religious or political views just to see if they'll offend you. And you shouldn't have to ask about underwear either, because if you can't see them, what difference does it make?"

Mrs. Garrison was having none of it. "Oh, wouldn't that be all peachy keen jelly beans. But let me tell you something, Kyle. This is only the beginning."

Kyle sank back into his seat. "What do you mean?" Even Cartman, who was inching his way closer to Butters, wanted to hear what was beginning.

"Thongs do something to your brain. You see a little skin, and then you want more. No, you _have_ to have more." The students could see that Mrs. Garrison was passionate about what she was saying, which was more than could be said for most of her lessons. Passion wasn't enough to give the subject clarity. Only Kenny, who had discovered the joy of nights in with a girlie mag and some Vaseline, or even tagging along with his father to the Peppermint Hippo strip club, could digest the information. The others had Cartman to thank for introducing them to thongs, and couldn't imagine needing to see more skin. "It starts with some guy saying, 'Oh, it won't happen to me. She's wearing a tanga. It's only a little bit of crack.' Then he's not interested unless it's a bikini. Pretty soon, he won't pay attention to anything or anyone unless they're wearing a two-way, or a g-string, or for the love of God… a c-string." Mrs. Garrison cringed. The kids were more confused than ever, but it sounded monstrous.

Poor Butters had been tapping his knuckles nervously as Cartman backed towards his desk. Cartman turned his head towards Butters and whispered, "Kyle's totally having a conscience attack. Tell him what you and your uncle did."

"Aaaaaah!" Butters screamed. He jumped out of his seat and over the top of his desk, trying to avoid coming too close to Cartman. The little boy's foot got caught, and he fell headfirst onto the linoleum. Landing on the floor knocked the wind out of him, and he was silent for a second before rising to his feet and dashing out the door, screaming all the way.

"This is why there are no good men left. They don't want to take their time to get to know a proper lady. A man would rather see some attention-whore overcompensate and jiggle her junk at the club. It's some kind of addiction."

Cartman was inwardly cursing Butters for running out when there was a perfect forum for him to reveal the deeply personal story, until he heard the word "addiction", and started to laugh. "They're crack addicts! Addicted… to crack!" Unable to keep himself upright, he collapsed onto the cool tiles. The students in the front row got a comprehensive view of Cartman's ass, sticking up in the air. A few of them ran out the door after Butters; the others were traumatized into stillness.

Gasping for air, Cartman rolled over, continuing to laugh. He saw his teacher's enraged face looming over him, which only caused him to laugh harder. "Mrs. Garrison… Mrs. Garrison… a crack pipe!" He hadn't reached his primary objective, but he wanted to squeeze a little fun out of the afternoon.

The bell rang. The kids usually vaulted out of their seats and made a break for the neighborhood, but today the ones who remained crept out. They responded as if a horrible accident had taken place in the front of the classroom. On the one hand, they were sickened by what had happened, but on the other hand, were morbidly curious to see what would happen to the people involved. Maybe something painful.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Thanks to everyone following this. Special thanks to IhateMarySue'sSooooMuch, Montana-Bob, and SpawnofCthulhu for taking the time to comment. Enjoy the latest installment!

Last of all, Cartman emerged from the building. He never figured out what had become of his pants. _Like hell I'm asking that banshee-male. Not my fault she's got sand in her fake vagina._ The crisp air bit into his legs. He was not ready to give up on getting that confession out of Butters, but the plan would have to wait until after he had a chance to go home and warm up. It was a hot chocolate kind of day.

The streets were quiet, but Cartman received several stares and one double-take from people he passed as he walked home. When he turned down his street, he could see several of the boys building snow forts in Stan's front yard. The promise of hot chocolate would have stopped him from bothering them, but he caught Clyde gawking at him before saying something to Jimmy. "Those dickholes are talking about me!"concluded Cartman, appalled. The chill in his lower body was immediately forgotten. Priorities. Jimmy and Clyde continued working on their snow cannon, not stopping until they heard heavy footsteps approaching. "Ay!"

The boys turned to see Cartman's stony glare in stark contrast to the gaudy pink triangle barely concealing him down below. The sight gave Jimmy mental whiplash, and a slight snicker escaped. "Wha-wh-wh-what's up, Eric?"

"I don't know. Apparently Clyde has something to say." Cartman waited for Clyde to beg for forgiveness.

The boy looked at Jimmy, then back at Cartman. "What?"

Not getting answers, Cartman kicked his way through the boys' snow cannon, demolishing it. "If you wanna talk shit, you can say it to my fucking face!"

Other boys dropped what they were doing and gathered to see what was happening. Clyde surveyed the damage to his work and asked, "What did I do?"

"Quit playing dumb. I saw you looking at me, all like: 'Whoa, Jimmy. That Eric Cartman got caught wearing banned underwear and got dry humped by Butters. What a douche!'" Cartman imitated Clyde's voice and leaned in close to Jimmy for dramatic emphasis.

Clyde, still at a loss, tried to put the matter to rest. "When I saw you, all I said was you had to be really cold."

"See, Cartman, he wasn't talking shit about you." Stan tried to smooth things over, knowing full well that Cartman let no insult, not even an imaginary one, go unpunished. "Why don't you go put some pants on, and then you can play snow wars with us if you want." Nearby, Kyle and a few other boys made faces of disapproval, but kept their mouths shut.

"What's that supposed to mean?" The boy's exposed legs were pink from the cold, but his face was red hot. Even a simple suggestion made his blood pressure skyrocket when he was in this mood. "Are you scared? Scared that Garrison was right?"

"No!" shouted several of the boys. Kenny was silent. He knew otherwise.

"Just get lost," droned Craig.

Cartman took a step towards the fort Stan had built with Kenny and Kyle. Stan still wanted to reason with the unreasonable. "What we mean is, Mrs. Garrison sometimes…"

(Garrison is right.) Kenny interrupted. (The thong was taking control of Butters. He couldn't hold back from giving Cartman his money. That's why our dads spend so much money at titty bars. At least, mine does.)

Proudly, Cartman asserted, "You see? You guys better be kewl to me."

"Wait a minute," Token wondered. "If thongs turn people into drooling morons who throw away all their money, why was only Butters affected?"

(Because it has to be… oh.) Kenny stopped himself. _Because it has to be someone you would bang. Jesus, Butters._

"It h-has to be what? S-s-spit it out ah… spit it out eh… s-spit it out aaalready!"

Kenny's brain raced to make something up. (Because it has to be… aimed at you. It's like a heat-seeking missile.)

The boys were quiet. Clyde couldn't hold his questions in any longer. "I'm still confused. Is it like crack or is it like a missile?"

"I know what's going on here." Kyle pointed an accusing finger at Cartman. "You were trying to trick Butters into telling us some sick story that _you_ made up. Well, you can forget it because nobody wants to see that!"

"You don't want me to put my pants on, do you, Kahl?" He feigned empathy, but having so little experience with those feelings, his acting was poor. "I know how hard it is for the skinflint Jew to part with his money, so I'll let you do something else for me. It involves you, your uncle, and a video camera…"

Kyle was constantly shifting to keep Cartman out of his line of sight, but the larger boy kept chasing Kyle's attention, kept rambling about his demands. Now, Kyle spoke, his moral crisis turning on its head. He marched up to Cartman. "I am sick and tired of you forcing yourself on everyone! You deserve a kick in _your_ crack pipe."

Hearing the threat emboldened Cartman. Adrenaline surged through him, filling him with a cocktail of anger and excitement. "Go ahead, Kahl. You must be dying to smoke some of this crack." He backed into Kyle and brushed his bare skin against Kyle's crotch.

"Get off me, fatass!" Without hesitation, Kyle pushed Cartman as hard as he could, knocking him face first into the heaps of snow. The disgusted boy followed up on his promise and kicked Cartman squarely in the rear.

On the ground, Cartman pushed himself onto his hands and knees, spitting. "I'm not fat; I'm big-boned!" Cartman intended to sound matter-of-fact, but he was losing control, and his voice spiraled off into a whine. "And even if I was fat – which I'm not – I could get a perfect six-pack, and Clyde here would still be a human septic tank."

When Mr. Mackey had made an announcement about Clyde's colostomy over the PA system, Clyde had visions of himself being the next Cory Duran, mocked into desperate suicide. It hadn't turned out that way, not for this likeable boy. Having best friends like Craig and Token didn't hurt either. The two boys stood close by. "You're unbelievable, asshole," Craig hissed without moving, except for raising his middle finger. His steely eyes were fixed on Cartman.

Feeling more confident, Clyde commented, "You couldn't get a six-pack. And you'd still be a closet case, anyway."

"Shut your goddamn mouth, shitbag!" Cartman screamed, leaning into Clyde's face and poking him in the side. Instinctively, Clyde's hands shot up to cover his pouch, just in case Cartman tried anything.

Before Cartman's sadistic streak could reveal itself, Token leapt in between and socked him. "Put one fat finger on him again and those nasty panties will be so far up your ass you'll get cut in fucking half!" Cartman clutched his face and staggered backwards before falling to his knees.

"I think it's happening already," Craig observed, pointing out how deeply the waistband was embedded into Cartman's sides. As the chubby boy inventoried his face for injuries, Craig reached out and grabbed a tight fistful of the flesh that spilled over. The other boys reacted with shouts of laughter and disgust.

"Oww!" Cartman wailed, smacking uselessly at Craig's hand. "You guys are so jealous! I can wear what I want, and I look good doing it."

The boys' laughter intensified. "I think his ass is hungry."

"Yeah, it's eating those poor underwear!"

(You took all the sexy out of those, man.)

"Damn straight, Kinny! I took more sexy out of them than any of you could!" To prove it, Cartman struck poses to show off his physique. But he convinced no one, not even himself.

Kyle wasn't sure whether Cartman was twisting the words into compliments to protect himself, or whether he truly believed it was meant as flattery. "'Damn straight?' You look damn gay!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"For someone who isn't gay, you put a whole lot of stuff in your ass!" Kyle was doing the math. "Anal probe, cigarettes, food, his finger…"

(And Kyle's finger…) Kenny added, smirking at the memory.

"Gross, dude!" Kyle shuddered. "He really wanted me to."

"And now, th-this. Tell me Eric, do you want Butters to p-p-push in your stool for you, very much?"

"Shut up!" Tears burned in Cartman's eyes. This was not part of his plan. Not at all. "I can't help it if I look hot wearing a thong. I don't like putting things in my ass, I don't, I don't!" He shook his fists, looking defeated.

"Livin' a lie, Timmy!"

Kyle threw his arms up in the air. "Why are you being such a pussy, Cartman? You couldn't have thought this was a good idea." _The way he's denying it, I bet he'll grow up just like Garrison. Only fatter._

"Yeah, you said worse stuff about Butters yesterday," Stan chided. Stan would have been lying if he said he didn't find it amusing to see Cartman getting ripped on this time. Craig, Token, Jimmy, and Kyle pummeled Cartman with the barrage of snowballs intended for their game. Clyde, Tweek, and Timmy watched, eyes wide. But Stan studied the other boy's face and saw just how hard Cartman was trying to keep himself together. The boy's lip was in his mouth. He was trembling all over now; whether it was from cold or embarrassment, Stan couldn't be sure. _This is going too far. He's still my friend, kind of._ Stan put a hand on Kyle's shoulder, trying to pull him back from Cartman, back to his senses. "Come on. I think he gets the message."

"Oh no." Kyle insisted, "This happens all the time. He does something retarded, we call him on it, and then the second he acts upset, you go, 'That's enough. He gets it.' If he gets it, then why does he keep screwing with people?"

(Yeah. And Butters has enough problems without that fat fuck making things worse.) Kenny had lost track of time, but took notice of the darkening sky. _Butters! I better make sure he's okay._ (Sorry guys, I gotta go home.)

"Right now?" asked Kyle.

(Yeah. I need to shit again. See ya!) He ran across the street without waiting for the other boys to return his goodbye.

Stan shook his head. "Wow, Kenny's got some major diarrhea today." A wail broke through the chatter. Stan and Kyle looked to see Cartman lying in a fetal position, snowball residue sticking to his coat and hat. He was whimpering; his eyes were squeezed shut. "What happened?" Stan asked the boys gathered around Cartman's quivering form.

"We asked Eric if his vagina and boobs were getting cold, and he told us to suck his balls," Clyde began. "So Craig kicked him."

Candid as ever, Craig concluded, "I guess he has balls after all."

"I told you," groaned Cartman, "it's _really_ cold out!" Stan cast a concerned eye over Cartman, especially the redness in his legs. He reached to help Cartman up, but Cartman waved his arms to protect himself. "Don't fucking touch me!" For a second, Cartman's eyes locked with Stan's. The boy on the ground tried to hide the tears on his cheeks.

"Cartman, you need to go home before you freeze," warned Stan, trying to be helpful.

Jimmy commented, "He c-c-c-can't freeze. His blubber keeps him warm so he can show off his 'whale tail'."

Wobbling to his feet, Cartman left as quickly as he could, favoring his tender places. He didn't look back. They might have still been laughing; he couldn't tell if it was laughter from before ringing in his ears. It wasn't far to the house where he counted on his mother to be waiting, ready to scoop him up and make it all better. But patience was not one of Cartman's strengths. So they would hear him cry. What more could they do?


End file.
